a dog in the heavens

I’ve been dreaming about dogs, some unfamiliar but also the dogs who have lived with us, whom we’ve loved. Friday, the English sheepdog cross, with one stiff leg she used like a rudder and a tangle of curls like dreadlocks. Lily, the Lab cross with a bit of wolf, who was brave and dignified, and who was part of our pack for 13 years. I wrote about her in an essay, “Phantom Limb”, and sometimes I still see her out of the corner of my eye, ambling across the grass with her nose in the air. Our last dog was Tiger, a golden retriever cross, who was born under a log near Ruby Lake to a crazy mother and a placid father, who was also her half-brother. That explained much about Tiger. She was sweet but “off” in some ways. When she was young and there was thunder or fireworks, she’d high-tail it down to her natal log. Never mind that her mother had moved on long ago and the woman who’d lived in the trailer by the log had also moved on. I still see Tiger, too, lying in sunlight on the driveway or else staring into the distance.

This week, a highlight of the night skies has been Canis Major, the Great Dog, with its bright star Sirius. This constellation was first charted (I think) by Ptolemy in the second century and is part of the myth of Orion, representing one of his hunting dogs. In the sky this week, you can see Canis Major following Orion as he chases the Seven Sisters or Pleiades across the heavens. I’ve always loved Orion and he graces the sky just to the south of my bedroom these nights, the three brilliant stars of his belt leading the eye to the Pleiades, who are a bit smudgy right now.

And is it a coincidence that the coyotes have been singing their hearts out this week? Last week they were mating — I think this is the pair that have denned to the south of our house for several years. We’ve seen them both, and at least one offspring, during the summer. A few summers ago, one half-grown pup appeared at 10 a.m, regular as clockwork, as we drank our coffee on the upper deck in August. This pup even inspected the dog-house — this was summer after Tiger died — and sat briefly on its threshold, as if to contemplate the settled life. It was easy to see that dogs and coyotes shared a common ancestor, though I understand that this is complicated, involving theories about divergences — some dog breeds can be traced back, through DNA sequencing, to ancient populations in the Middle East and Africa. And I think German Shepherds (Lily had some of this) are more closely related to wolves. Lily would play with Tiger when the latter was a puppy and one of their games involved Tiger trying to get Lily to regurgitate food for her. They went through all the motions of what must have been a deep reflexive prompt and response. It was like a window into very ancient history.

Last week, mating. This week, singing a beautiful clear song for the joy of it. And are the coyote songs causing my dreams of dogs? Or is it simply time to take the next step in bringing a new dog home? John spent last summer restoring that dog-house. It has a new floor, a new roof, and its cedar siding has been freshly stained. And the little sign Forrest made for Lily, Cave canem, is still legible above the opening.

It is always so sad when they leave us. We’ve had many cats over the years too and when we don’t have one, we begin to hear the mice in the walls. Our last cat died quite suddenly but he was from a litter abandoned by their mother and his sister — we took two of the kittens — died almost immediately of pretty extreme seizures at just a few months old. The brother lived to be five but I think he had some neurological disorder too.

Ah, so you are dog people! Alas, I am a cat person married to a dog person. But I’m winning, in that regard. We welcomed another shelter cat into our household two weeks ago, but our old cat and she are taking their sweet time getting cozy with each other. They’re still separated and probably will be for awhile.

The reticence I feel about bringing home a new pet is this: will they ever be as wonderful and perfect as the last one(s)? Hard to live up to expectations and I’m no longer entirely sure it’s worth trying….

I’d say I’m both, Andrea — love both cats and dogs. But for sheer companionship (walks, etc.), I look forward to having a big dog again. The bonus, here on the edge of wild woods and mountains, is that dogs keep deer and bears from the garden…